Schizm
by peach feet
Summary: The woes of Eliot and Freedert. Oh yeah, and Kyle. A bit of an alternate universe, actually. But...that's unimportant.
1. Menace

**Disclaimer: These characters are pwnz0rz by a bunny. I am not a bunny. I like to think of myself as a rare species of…xebec. Thanks most kindly to my beta**.

"And now it's yours. Congratulations, Eliot." Eliot smiled and took the scroll lying open in the palm of his beaming father's hand. It proclaimed that Eliot, son of Edam, was entitled to a new constituency of land, to do with as he pleased. It was a birthday gift from his father, a high-ranking Duke of Winchester, who was loved and respected by all—not excluding the reigning queen, Victoria—and was very rich and powerful. He had three children; Eliot, Michael, and Violet, by the ages of 17, 15, and 13.

Eliot, being the eldest, was entitled to many small luxuries and powers, like jewels or music instruction, or even small battalions of soldiers to govern. This particular grant, however, was the first real application of power for Eliot, and he intended to have the most amount of fun as he could with it—not failing to flaunt it in his sibling's faces. Eliot was not, for all his subtleties, a kind and generous soul, and he could not keep anything special and powerful to himself for more than five minutes.

His brother and sister, Michael and Violet, were pampered and loved by their father in their own right, but his love was rather obviously dominated by Eliot. So, the other children turned to each other for solace, and resolved to help the community become a more habitable place They were regarded as the "Children of Peace;" by many a villager, and they certainly lived up to that harmonious statement.

Violet, next in line, was tall and beautiful, in a mysterious sort of way. Dark-haired and thin like her father, she was the only child who inherited her mother's eyes, which were large, sympathetic, and, well, violet. She was a soft-spoken and easy-going individual, and she went out of her way to help others.

Her brother Michael, in whom she took much pride, was three years her junior, yet they looked as if they could be twins. Only Michael's eyes, green and mischievous, gave him away. He was quite the jokester, quick to make people laugh, and lighten the atmosphere. He had a soft heart, however, and would always stop to greet the townsfolk, or play with the children. The villagers loved the pair, and always sent lavish gifts at celebrations, and such for their hard work and dedication to the community.

Eliot, on the other hand, though tall, thin, and good looking, was shockingly fair, and had eyes like chips of steel—cold, hard, and grey. He took after his mother, who was long deceased, unfortunately, and although his drop-dead looks and high rank would be enough to floor any self-respecting female, his personality was another story altogether. Cold, shrewd, and distant, Eliot was _not_ a sociable individual. Unlike his siblings, who were always bound to help others, Eliot would instead snap at and brush away any of his people, scorning them instead as mindless peasants. Instead of going out of his way to gain their respect, he would instead confine himself to his library to read…and brood.

So, on his 17th birthday, when Eliot received his first plot of land and smiled that terrible, ironic smile of his, Violet and Michael knew that a new disaster would befall, even worse than a time, long ago that the two remembered well. Eliot had ordered a soldier to step on a mine, so he could challenge a book on how high one would fly, before landing, dead, on the ground. And when Eliot swept smugly out of the room, twirling the scroll like a baton, they knew that he was scheming something monstrous and terrible, like the abomination he was—even if the Duke was too blind to see it. So, after all the feasting and celebrations were over, Michael and Violet couldn't help going to bed with horrible premonitions. And how right they were.

* * *

Eliot woke up the next morning with a good feeling about himself. Perhaps it was the realisation that he was one year older, or maybe it was that the cooks were preparing him his favourite breakfast—roasted eel with pork livers. No, Eliot was feeling very happy about having his first plot of land on which to do whatever he pleased…his father _did_ mention something about there being people on it, and something else about being _responsible…_ but what did that matter? Eliot was planning to build himself his own castle—or, correction, have _others_ build him a castle—complete with a gigantic library, torture chamber, and harem. 

Almost giddy—but not evidently so, that would surely damage his reputation—with anticipation, Eliot hauled himself out of bed, dressed, combed his hair, and made his way down to the dining hall, stopping to relieve himself along the way. The hall downstairs was bustling with activity. Servants everywhere were still cleaning up from yesterday's party, and were hurriedly picking up bits of food, crêpe paper, and spilt bottles of liquor before the Duke came downstairs to see them do it. Eliot frowned. These servants should have done all that yesterday! They probably all got drunk and slept on the job…idiot peasants. Eliot growled, then barked an order. Not ten seconds later did a man pop up beside him, and give a low, subtly sarcastic bow, awaiting his orders. This was Nathaniel, the long-time butler and head servant to the duchy.

"G'morning sah, what can I do for yah?" he asked pompously. Eliot pursed his lips and raised a thin, pale eyebrow.

"Nathaniel, _why_ wasn't the clean-up held yesterday?" Nathaniel blinked.

"Well, sah, the celebrations ended at dawn! We've only had an hour to clean an entire hall, give us a chance!" Eliot growled.

"_Wrong answer_, Nathaniel. I want every single servant who was supposed to clean here thrown out, _now. _I want no excuses. You can only stay because of your sworn fealty to my father…but know this, _servant._" His voice dropped to a whisper, and he leant over to Nathaniel's ear. "When I'm Duke, there will be drastic changes…including a sweep of all of this duchy's staff. And I can tell you, most will be…let go…shall we say?" Eliot smiled widely, showing his sharp incisors, then strode off, whistling, to the high table, leaving Nathaniel with a dark look on his face—one of deep loathing. He then shook himself, and slowly made his way to the kitchen, where he would call a meeting to tell the hundred families that they would have to leave.

* * *

Duke Edam came down from his bedchambers feeling sprightly and refreshed. Yesterday's feasts had been most excellent, and Edam was on his way to the kitchens where he could congratulate the cook on his extraordinary efforts. But, on his way, Edam noticed the constant stream of crying maids, or grim-faced butlers and kitchen hands holding their weeping wives and children. Edam also noticed that although he was greeted with bows and all other necessary formalities, no one voiced their concerns, although he did catch one name on everyone's lipsEliot. Edam scowled. Eliot was a nice boy, but he _did _get carried away at times. 

He caught the eye of the brooding Nathaniel, who was wringing his hands so frequently, Edam was worried they might fly across the room. He went over to him and stilled his hands, but Nathaniel wouldn't look at him. Edam understood right away, and promised his trusted servant he would sort all this out, and told him to tell no one to leave. Edam now strode angrily through the foyer and entered the dining hall with a bang. Eliot was the only occupant—as well as a dancer…performing for him—and was feasting on his roasted eels while absorbed in the dancer's voluptuous chest. Edam dismissed the girl with a wave—making a mental note to summon her to his chambers that night—and focused on his son, who was frowning, annoyed.

"Eliot! What have you done to those people in the halls?" Edam asked angrily.

"Done what, father? I have done no wrong." Eliot replied smoothly, while spooning a chunk of pork liver into his mouth. Edam growled.

"Don't you dare lie to me. You dismissed all those servants. It took me months to find some aids trustworthy enough to hire, and you throw it all away by forcing all those families to leave?" Eliot sighed, and took a sip of wine before replying.

"Father, those people weren't doing their assigned tasks. They were still cleaning from last night when I came in, and you know how I hate eating while watching people cl—"

"Eliot, they had one hour to tidy an entire hall! Be reasonable!"

"Father, being reasonable has cost many of our 'great leaders' battles everywhere. You think that I can stand here and let them get away with being lax in their duties?"

"Eliot, this is a residence, a household. And, may I point out, it is _my_ house. While I agree on the point of servants sometimes being lax, I have no doubt that my people were doing everything they could to make this day all the more enjoyable for you. Now I am returning all of them to their services, and you will say no more of this matter, unless you want me to rethink that land grant I gave you…" Edam trailed off, looking satisfied. Eliot was now facing away from him, seemingly unconcerned, but he knew the full impact of his statement. Smiling grimly, Edam strode out of the hall, back to Nathaniel. Those families would stay as long as they were loyal, and he had no doubt that that would be for the rest of his life.


	2. Theft

**Disclaimer: Dude, I wish.**

"Hey, Eliot, look at those girls over yonder!" murmured Michael in his ear. The two were riding through the cobblestone main way on their way to survey Eliot's plot of land. The two girls in question giggled and pretended indifference as Michael stared avidly at them. Eliot, on the other hand, could have cared less as he sniffed and urged his horse onward.

"Michael, stay focused. You were sent with me to learn how one deals with a new territory, not to feel up every woman in town." Michael furrowed his brow.

"That's not fair, Eliot. You know I was only joking, why do you always have to be so cold?" He turned away, hurt. Eliot smirked, but said nothing, sulking. Why did he have to be accompanied by this witless fool, anyway?

_Edam walked into the dining hall, his arms around his two younger children. _

"_Now today, Violet, I need to set straight the castle records with you, and that will probably take all day. Is that alright?"_

"_Yes of course, father. You know how I like to help you."_

"_Yes, dear, I do." The three came up to the head table, where Eliot was sitting, eating his porridge and toast. _

"_Father, I think I shall go visit my plot today." he said, while chewing a particularly lumpy piece of gruel. Edam smiledn proudly._

"_Of course, son. You need to get a move on with your plans. The people are waiting for your decision."_

"_Oh! Can I come too?" interjected Michael. "I need to start learning these things too, so I'll become a proper heir." Eliot scowled._

"_No."_

"_Oh, come on, please? Father?" Edam hesitated. Eliot was scowling heavily, and Michael was pleadingly searching his face for an affirmative. As much as he knew Eliot would rather go alone, Michael did need to start in his practical studies, so…_

"_Yes Michael, that's a splendid idea. You can go with Michael, and Violet and I will get this castle in order." He smiled to himself at the murderous expression on Eliot's face. _Oh well, _he thought. _He'll just have to deal with it. I'll make it up to him later._ Nodding at the two of them, he turned and steered his daughter out, leaving Michael and Eliot to glare—well, Michael was grinning smugly, and Eliot was glaring—at each other. _

* * *

And here they were, on their way to survey the land. Michael had now lapsed into a heavy silence, shooting strained smiles at passing villagers. Eliot, on the other hand, had actually been pleased and aroused by the group of girls. Fully mature, and pretty, he made a note to have them brought up to the castle…later on. The two passed miles of wide, green moors, and small, but close villages, until they finally came upon a stake driven into the ground that marked the beginning of Eliot's territory. He nodded assuredly, and moved on. Michael was stupefied. This plot was huge! It was much larger than the village of Indigo, where the duchy was located. In Eliot's opinion, though, it took all too soon for the pair to reach the small village where his soldiers were located. As they rode through the muddy roads, the townsfolk, all clad in black, watched silently from the sides, and windows of their slightly pathetic huts. Michael was obviously uneasy, and even Eliot started to fidget under the hawkish gaze of approximately 60 old ladies. Michael noticed this too.

"Eliot, where are all the men?"

"I had them all shot yesterday." Michael blanched.

"W-What!"

"You heard me. I had them shot."

"But….why? They did you no harm!"

"They were obviously plotting an uprising. I want no obstructions."

"ELIOT? I KNEW THESE MEN! They were planning a PARADE for your glorious welcome into their humble village! I helped them plan it!" Eliot raised his eyebrows at Michael, who was in tears.

"Dear, dear, I seem to have been mistaken…" Eliot shrugged. "Oh well. Less people to provide for, I suppose."

"How can you say that? You're not my brother…you're…a monster…" Michael wiped his eyes and turned his horse. As his brother galloped away, Eliot couldn't help but think of him as a coward, filthy imbecile that he was. He looked after him for a while, until Michael's black stallion was nothing more than a dark blip on the horizon.

When Eliot turned back to the village, many people were weeping, and frowning at him. they stood there for a while, people, horse and rider, until a boy not much younger than Eliot stepped forward.

"Welcome, sire. My name is Kyle of Lexington, and this is my village. I have recently—this morning, actually, when I returned—been appointed leader of this village, as I am the only male inhabitant left, aside from the old, weak elders." Kyle looked Eliot straight in the eye, and spat out his words. "We're the only ones _left, _sire." He then turned away, and the crowd parted. Eliot followed him, and they ended up at the guardhouse, where Eliot's squadron leader came out to greet him.

"Good morning, sire. Welcome to Lexington."

"Thank you Ralph. I wish to see your plans."

"Certainly, sire. Right this way."

Eliot jumped down from his chestnut mare, Hoshi, and gave the reins to Kyle, who nodded and went to stable her. Eliot then followed Ralph inside, and was greeted by the rest of his battalion.

"Freedert! More tea!" yelled Ralph, as they all sat around a large wooden table. The interior of the hut was wood, primitive as the style was, it was liveable, and Eliot wouldn't complain unless he got into a bad mood. Ralph sniffed impatiently, and yelled again. "FREEDERT! DID YOU HEAR ME? TEA, NOW!" A meek and distant "Yes sir!" was heard somewhere in the back room, and a flurry of activity was then understood to have taken place. Ralph rolled his amber eyes, and the men got down to business. Ralph showed Eliot the plans for his castle, and they discussed where it should face, et cetera.

"Sire, I have a question," asked a man down the table, near the end.

"Yes?" Eliot prompted, while still skimming the diagram of the moat.

"Um, what's really in it for us?" Eliot jerked his head upwards.

"What? Are you saying you're too greedy to help me?"

"N-no, sir, I was just wondering what kind of pay we'd be receiving, 'cause my wife, you know, she's ill, a—"

"That's no excuse! You will either build my castle, or be banished forever from this kingdom! I'll work it someway, don't you wor—" But Eliot stopped too. Actually, Eliot not only stopped, but also was blatantly staring at a newcomer to the room. And that newcomer was—

"Freedert, m'lord. She's my daughter, merely a peasant girl, who is now courting a young man called Kyle. She likes to help me out with company. Freedert, this is Lord Eliot of Indigo, he's here to preview our plans." Ralph smiled at his daughter, and she at him. But to Eliot, she stared him straight in the eye, and muttered a sullen "A pleasure, _my lord._" She bared her beautiful, white teeth at him, and whirled out. Eliot stood there, speechless. _Freedert… _She was the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes on. Tall, slim, and fair, her ice-blue eyes, though ironic, and disapproving, were spirited and deep.

"You'll have to forgive my daughter, sire…" started Ralph hastily. "She's carried a grudge against you long before you…erm…raided the town. But she is courting Kyle, so please don't…intrude, sire."

"Are you telling me what to do?"

"No, sire, please. It's just…well…she's my child, sire. I'd like her to be happily married, not loathing her husband, should it be you."

"Are you saying I'm loathsome?"

"NO, sire! She, well…hates you, is all. You did order her brother killed…and her best friend…so…"

"Oh, those are but petty concerns. But…we shall see."

That night, the only thing Eliot could think of was Freedert. And in his dreams, an angel with beautiful long, golden hair visited him, and sang him to sleep. And that was it. The theft had occurred—the theft of Eliot's heart, that is.

**Hooey! That was a mouthful. Well, thanks Meg. Thank you kindly. **


End file.
